


Fascination

by Beleriandings



Series: Nargothrond and Beyond [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finrod gets back to his rooms in Nargothrond one night to find someone there already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fascination

When he returned to his rooms that night, Finrod was not, in truth, surprised to see the figure standing at his desk, with his back to the door.

Nevertheless, he was aware that he should probably pretend to be. “Cousin. Who let you into my rooms?”

Curufin turned, slowly, still contemplating a jewelled letter opener that he had picked up from amongst Finrod’s papers, turning it this way and that and watching the play of light on the metal blade, running his fingernail along the grooves of the wire filigree on the handle. “Why” he said silkily. “Your servant let me in. I said I had important  _family matters_ to talk over with you, and that you were expecting me.”

 _Had Finrod been expecting him? Perhaps._ He could not help but stare at Curufin’s quick, clever hands, taking in the dance of the tiny silver scars across the knuckles, remnants of sword practice, of fighting. “You were watching me all this evening.” He tried to make it a question but even to him it sounded more like a statement.  _Cousin, we both know how this plays out._

"Do you blame me?" Curufin took a step closer, holding the letter opener in both hands and offering it to Finrod, hilt first. Finrod ignored it, his eyes fixed on Curufin’s hair. Sleek and straight and black in the cold blue light of the lampstone, gleaming like a raven’s wing. Finrod had a sudden urge to seize a handful of it and wrench hard, to shatter Curufin’s tense, poised stillness like a stone dropped in a glassy pool. He blinked as Curufin continued speaking, his voice hard-edged. "Your speeches are too long, dear Ingoldo." Curufin placed the letter opener on the table, too close to the edge.  _Perfectly balanced._  “No one cares for your inspirational, tediously hopeful platitudes, I am certain. And yet” a tiny frown appeared on Curufin’s face, as though he were trying to solve a troublesome logical problem “…and yet they still love you. They are still… loyal.” He reached out into the space between them and ran a single finger down the line of Finrod’s jaw. “Why might that be, I am given to wonder?” The finger reached the base of his throat where the Nauglamir lay, metal warmed by Finrod’s skin. Curufin’s face twitched as his finger brushed it, his eyes lingering on the gold, drinking it in hungrily.

"If my people love me it is because I love them, and have their best interests at heart" said Finrod. "Loyalty, cousin, goes both ways." 

Curufin smiled, as though to himself. “I’m sure.”

"So" snapped Finrod, raising his hand to where Curufin’s was tracing the line of his collarbone beneath the heavy metal collar. He narrowed his eyes. "What was it you wanted from me?"

Curufin’s fingertips ran down a braid of Finrod’s golden hair, before meeting his eye at last. Curufin’s eyes were bright silver, the lamplight turning them almost blue-white, sparking with something like hunger. His mouth curved slowly, maddeningly, into a smile. “Everything, golden one.  _Everything_.”


End file.
